


Pumpkin Spike

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Crack, Non-Explicit Sex, Pumpkin - Freeform, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S4. AU Something Blue. Willow's spell goes awry in a most unexpected way.Beta'd by Gort.Archived on AO3 and EF only.





	Pumpkin Spike

 

No one understood!

Willow crossed her arms. It seemed like lately Buffy always had an excuse for everything and no time for best friending. She glared at a leftover bag of Halloween candy sitting on her desk. Ick. Candy corn. On the front of the bag there was smiling, cheerful jack-o-lantern.

“This would be a lot easier if Spike was Buffy’s pet…pet…pet pumpkin!” she said, snorting for emphasis.

She looked around her dorm room, but there was no one there to agree with her. Giles had called earlier, but she’d missed his call and didn’t feel like calling back. Or going to see Xander. Or doing much of anything besides missing Oz.

With a sigh, she picked up her copy of  _Beyond Good and Evil_ , curled up on her bed, and began to read. The useless ‘My Will Be Done’ spell had really tuckered her out. At least the effects only lasted 24 hours.  After a good night’s rest, she should feel right as rain.

Except that Oz would still be gone.

Maybe Buffy would have time for ice cream and wallowing tomorrow.

****

Fuck.

Spike couldn’t see a bloody thing.

“What just happened?” Giles asked from where he was sitting on the couch in his flat’s excuse for a living room.

“Er, I don’t know,” Buffy replied. “One minute Spike’s standing there, and the next he’s gone, except for his clothes.”

“Do you think he dusted?” Giles asked with what sounded like entirely too much glee in his voice for Spike’s comfort.

Buffy snorted. “I don’t have that kind of luck. Also the tacky—“ tacky? Was the chit serious? He worked hard to look this good— “clothes would have gone poof if he’d gone…poof.”

There was the sound of approaching footsteps and the light returned as something was pulled off him. Buffy was a lot taller than he remembered her being.

“Huh,” the Slayer said, wrinkling up her nose. “That’s weird.”

Spike just knew he wasn’t going to like whatever she said next.

“Spike turned into a pumpkin.”

Well, how about that. He’d been right, he didn’t like it. A pumpkin? How in the bloody hell had he ended up a gourd?

“Is it after midnight?” Giles asked.

Right, because he was sodding Cinderella…or, wait, that was the carriage. Pulled by mice. He quickly glanced left and right, but no singing mice appeared. Yet. It wasn’t like the night could get much weirder.

So…pumpkin. Spike tried to move, but nothing happened. He tried harder. Still nothing. He could feel his general shape, round with a stem on top, not too big, but he couldn’t speak, or breathe, or do anything but look around and feel the hard tile underneath him.

This sucked.

Giles was adjusting his glasses and peering down at him now. “Rather unexpected thing to happen,” the Watcher said. “Even on a hellmouth. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a vampire to squash transfiguration before.”

Well, that was good. Spike hated to think Angel had been turned into a zucchini or whatnot before him. It was nice to be first at something.

“What should we do with him?” Buffy asked, bending down and putting a hand on Spike. He could feel her palm, warm and deceptively gentle, against his…skin? Peel? Rind? It felt nice. “And do you think he can hear us?” She was petting him now and he was enjoying the attention far more than he ever wanted to admit. He tried another round of moving or yelling, even sending out very strong thoughts to let her know that yes, he could hear her, but nothing happened.

“Buffy,” Giles said, sounding exasperated. “He’s a pumpkin. Of course, he can’t see or hear you. He doesn’t even have a brain at the moment. Well, not that he ever does.”

Hey!

The Watcher pulled his glasses off to clean them as he continued. “As for what to do with him, I haven’t the faintest clue. I do suppose that even though it’s rather late for it we could make a charming jack-o-lantern out of him.”

What?

Buffy let out a perturbed squeak and the next thing he knew he was being lifted into her arms and smashed against her chest.

“Not happening,” she snapped. “He’s my…pumpkin, er, problem, and you’re not to lay a finger on him unless I say so!”

There were other words, but he stopped paying attention because he was finding it hard to think about…stuff…and…

Boobs.

She had him squished against and between her tits and it felt like heaven. She wasn’t wearing a bra, either, and he had no idea what he’d done to deserve such a treat, but it obviously had to have been something in a past life because it certainly hadn’t been this one.

Spike was almost certain his stem was a little straighter than it had been.

He desperately wished pumpkins had noses because he would bet she smelled divine. Probably tasted even better. It wasn’t really the first time he’d dreamed of smushing his face into her cleavage and sucking on her nipples, if he was being honest. He might have wanked a time or two—or many, but who was counting—over her sublime titties.

She tended to let them roam free and his imagination went right along with them.

Though his imagination hadn’t done justice to how plush they really were. Almost worth being turned into a pumpkin, this was.

There was a thud as the door opened.

“Hiya, Buffster.” Oh goody, it was Harris. “Willow’s in Oz mopage land and doesn’t want to do anything, so I figured I’d come and see if anything was happening here.” There was a pause. “Buffy, why are you holding a pumpkin?”

“It’s not a pumpkin,” she said. “Okay, well, it is a pumpkin, but it’s not just a pumpkin.  It’s Spike, he turned into one.”

“I’m going to pretend that made sense,” Xander said. “Are we going to carve a face on him? Maybe with little pumpkin fangs?”

Buffy made an incoherent sound of shock. “Not you, too. It isn’t funny. You know what? That’s it, I’m taking him home!”

Giles and Xander started to protest, but Buffy was already marching out the door.

Spike was both enjoying her indignant huffy fit because it was on his behalf and because she was practically stomping with each step and it made her tits jiggle, which was just delightful.

Buffy didn’t say anything until they reached her house. “My mom’s gone for a couple of days, so you should be safe here.” The Slayer let herself in and set him on the kitchen counter.

Humming some top forty pop song to herself, Buffy put a bagel in the toaster. While it was browning she poured herself a glass of milk and set a plate out. Once her bagel was done she slathered it in pink cream cheese and jumped up to sit on the counter while she ate.

“Onion bagel with strawberry cream cheese,” she said, mouth full. Spike was suddenly glad he couldn’t smell anything. “I know I’m weird, but, as my mom says, there’s no accounting for taste.” She took another bite and ended up with cream cheese on her nose. He rather fancied licking it off.

The thought made him give himself a mental shake. He was not…he was supposed to want…

Sod it. He was a pumpkin. He could imagine whatever he bloody well pleased. As Buffy rambled on about her classes and the other students in her classes, Spike imagined that he and she had just come in from patrol. He’d lean against the counter while she told him about her day and ate her snack. Then he’d kiss her senseless.

He was just reaching the part where he stripped her shirt off when real-world Buffy finished up her bagel, dropped her plate in the sink, and scooped him back up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t facing her chest this time, though he could still feel her pressed against him.

She started rambling as she carried him upstairs about some berk she’d gone on a picnic with. It sounded terrible. Worse than terrible, it sounded boring. And like a date. A date with boring. Spike found himself unreasonably brassed off at the git that’d asked her out and rather desperate to tell Buffy she was making a mistake. Take her for a drive? Had Buffy gone to the old folk’s home to meet men? She’d be bored to tears with vineyards.

If she wanted a drive he knew where there was a nest of nasty little buggers that could use a good slaying. Pretty moonlight views of the ocean along the way, too. The girl could roll the window down, let her hair loose in the breeze…

Wait.

Was he thinking about dating the Slayer?

Buffy set him down on one of the pillows on her bed, thankfully facing the foot of the bed and not the wall. She patted him. “I’m just going to take a shower, I’ll be right back.”

While she was gone he took a good look at her room. It was a place he’d never expected to be, but to his surprise, he rather liked it. It was a little messy and cluttered, and there were stakes on top of the vanity, but it felt real and lived in. This was her when she wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

Spike started to desperately want to not be a pumpkin. He needed to talk to her. Surely this bloody squash situation couldn’t be permanent? Not that she was any more likely to want to be his girlfriend when he was a vampire as opposed to a fall decoration, but he would at least be able to try and convince her that they could be brilliant together. There’d never be a dull moment. They could fight and fuck and it’d all be wonderful.

He tried very hard to not be a pumpkin, but nothing changed. He better not be stuck like this or he’d…roll into the ankle of whoever was responsible. Hard. So they had a bruise.

Buffy came back from her shower in nothing but a towel.

Spike couldn’t take his eyes off her. She puttered around the room, doing girly things like combing out her hair and putting on face cream. It all felt very homey and right. He could spend every night for the rest of his time on earth watching her do the same things.

Finally, she opened the window and turned off the lights before coming to stand beside the bed.

“It’s muggy,” she said, almost defensively. “I don’t usually do this.”

She didn’t do what…oh, fuck.

She’d dropped the towel.

The moonlight gilded her smooth skin in silver. She was breathtaking. Not that pumpkins had a lot of breath, but it felt like he’d lost his anyway. Her nipples were pink and succulent, her hips looked made for his hands, and the curls between her legs appeared lonely and in need of a good petting.

Spike was surprised he was still intact and there wasn’t just a puddle of pumpkin innards left on her pillow. Or maybe pumpkin dust. If he got much hotter perhaps he’d spontaneously convert into a pumpkin pie. He imagined Buffy, still nude, eating the dollop of whipped cream off the top of a slice of pie.

He mentally whimpered.

Buffy slid under the sheet, lying on her side so she was facing him. “You’re a good pumpkin,” she said, petting him again. “Night, Spike.”

She closed her eyes and Spike found he could do the same, though he didn’t seem able to rest. Did vegetables sleep? Er, was he a vegetable? Or were pumpkins technically fruit?

Beside him, Buffy shifted and he opened his eyes in case the sheet slipped down while she was tossing and turning. After a few minutes of wiggling, she frowned and half sat up.

“I can’t sleep, my brain’s too busy,” she said, looking at him. “And you’re distracting.”

He was?

She flopped back and looked at the ceiling for a few moments, then glanced at him. “You better be just a pumpkin,” she said, an almost guilty look on her face. What was the chit on about now?

She bunched the sheet up and pushed it down, exposing her breasts.

Spike stared avidly. Apparently, this was his lucky…

Buffy cupped her tits and began to squeeze the nipples, moaning softly.

Bloody hell, was she doing what he thought she was?

She drew her knees up and kicked the sheets off as one of her hands wandered south.

Spike was absolutely sure his stem was sticking straight up and was a lot harder than it had been.

The show didn’t last nearly as long as he would have liked it to. Buffy played with her breasts and circled her fingers over her sex until she was panting and raising her hips off the bed. Her breath started to hitch.

Spike was mentally yelling at her to slide her fingers inside herself, but she didn’t, damn it.

A few seconds later she came and he got the shock of his life when, in the middle of her breathy moans, he made out a word.

“Spike!”

The girl had been touching herself and thinking of him?

He tried not being a pumpkin again with the same results. Bugger!

Buffy rolled on her side to face him. “I needed that, but, y’know. It’s never as satisfying as I want it to be.”

Christ, he could fix that for her. He’d satisfy her until she couldn’t walk.

If only he wasn’t a blasted pumpkin.

This time Buffy did drift off to sleep, and, after a while, even his eyelids grew heavy.

Huh, vegetables (fruit?) apparently could sleep.

****

Buffy woke up in the morning, confused at first by the fact that she wasn’t in the dorms, but then she remembered carrying pumpkin Spike to her house to keep him safe. She was also completely befuddled by the fact she wasn’t alone in bed. There was a someone spooned against her with his arm draped over her. How’d that happened? She’d fallen asleep with the pumpkin on her pillow and…oh. He must not be a pumpkin any longer.

For a moment she lay very still, aware that she was naked. Maybe Spike was still asleep? The body pressed against hers shifted and something thick and hard prodded her backside.

“I know you’re not asleep, Slayer,” Spike rumbled before pressing a kiss against the nape of her neck.

With a little ‘eep’ she rolled over to face him and tell him to get the heck out of her bed. Not that it was his fault he was there, or his fault that he was naked. She’d left his clothes at Giles’ place.

In the dim light filtering around the edges of the curtains, Spike’s eyes looked very blue and very knowing.

Cripes.

“Y-y-you weren’t just a pumpkin, were you?” she stammered.

His grin was wolfish.

“Um…” She was out of words and could feel her cheeks burning.

Spike smiled wider for a moment, but then he became serious. When he spoke, he sounded almost hoarse. “Buffy, if I hadn’t heard it from your own lips I wouldn’t imagine you ever thought of me as more than an enemy.”

God, she’d moaned his name last night as she’d masturbated, images of his hard body against hers playing through her mind. That happened way, way more often than she’d ever let him know.

“I can’t give you picnics in the sunlight, though, honestly, it sounded bloody terrible.”

“It kind of was,” she said, voice tiny.

He smiled and ran a hand over her hair. “Give me a chance, Buffy. I can fight beside you, every night, and show you the fun of swimming in the sea under the moon, and you would never have to hide any part of yourself from me.”

Her lips parted in shock. How did Spike, of all people, understand her?

He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered. “And I would never leave you unsatisfied. My stem…er, cock, is aching for you.” He pushed his erection against her belly in emphasis.

She put a hand on his chest and pushed him flat on the mattress. He gazed up at her like she was the most amazing thing in the universe. Her heart trembled. When had she ever been the center of somebody’s world? “No promises,” she said at last. “We take it one day at a time?”

He nodded. “And this day?”

She smiled and pressed her lips to his.

In the next instant, she was the one on her back with a very amorous vampire on top of her, kissing the hell out of her.  Or into her. Not that it mattered.

Buffy ran her hands over his face and hooked a leg around his waist.

This was going to be fun.

And it was probably her imagination, but she thought he tasted, just a little bit—and she’d have to keep kissing him to make sure—like nutmeg and pumpkin.


End file.
